


abandoned drafts

by littlemissaily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Montreal Canadiens, Nashville Predators, Philadelphia Flyers, Vancouver Canucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissaily/pseuds/littlemissaily
Summary: stuff i never finished that i'm throwing out into the void in case anyone is interested or wants to complete. i may update this with more drafted things if i find anything else in old notebooks or .doc files.





	1. Unlock and Talk (Brayden Schenn / Sean Couturier)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brayden gets locked out of his car and that may be his brother's creative (read: bad) idea of matchmaking. Or maybe Coots put Luke up to it.

"You massive pit stain, you didn't give me the key before you left," Brayden texts to his older brother.

Of course Luke decided to go to lunch with Simmer and forgot to give Brayden the car key. It's not like Luke could actually be as responsible as the media makes him out to be. Instead, he does things like lives 10 floors above Brayden, but won't actually go home to his apartment until the latest possible time because he doesn't feel like taking himself and his gear upstairs yet. This, of course, ignores the fact that their building has a fully functional elevator and the only real work Luke would have to do is walk through the lobby, take the elevator, and then walk from there to the end of the hall on the tenth floor. For the same exact reason, Luke also has a tendency to just leave his groceries at Brayden's and cook out of Brayden's kitchen. Luke's laundry, somehow, also almost always ends up at Brayden's and Brayden ends up doing it just because he's so fed up with his hamper being full. Practically the only thing Luke does that is helpful to both of them is cook, and he doesn't even manage to clean up after himself ever anyway. Basically, Luke is the worst older brother, ever.

That sentiment applies particularly now, with Brayden standing in the almost empty parking garage, staring at his own car, that he's locked out of, because his brother is an inconsiderate dumbass. Brayden's love of his car is the only thing that keeps him from kicking a back tire in frustration. His options are either call a cab or go beg off a ride from one of the guys, if there's even anyone around besides coaching staff and management. Brayden is not asking Lavi or anyone similar for a ride home; that is shit he is not willing to take for however long he stays here in Philly. So he pulls himself together, hauls his bag up onto his right shoulder, and turns determinedly back towards the players' entrance of the Skate Zone. Maybe he can get one of the nice older guys and manage this with some amount of dignity.

As he's stepping back that way, however, Coots emerges. Great, just great. Brayden has a tendency to do stupid things anyway -- he's a 21-year-old hockey player from Saskatoon, he's got a lot of "real life" things that still need figuring out -- but even he will admit that he is particularly stupid around Coots. He can't seem to decide if it's some weird, confused sense of bravado or just a natural flusteredness associated with being around individuals of one's interest, but overall, Brayden knows he doesn't exactly make himself seem all that cool in front of Coots. And that's really a shame, because if it were up to Brayden, well, Coots would think he was the coolest guy ever and want to spend all of his time with him. As it is, Coots probably just thinks of him as the massive dork that was rookies with him last year, lived with Roo and thus was over at Danny B's a lot of the time too, and now as the younger Schenn. Thinking of it that way, Brayden's not sure there's anything good about his brother being on the Flyers that isn't purely for the benefit of the team.

"Hey Schenner, what're you still doing around?" The other man calls as he approaches Brayden.

Is there a not embarrassing way to say, "I'm locked out of my own car"? Yeah, Brayden didn't think so. "Uh, Luke didn't give me the key to the car before he left for lunch with Sims. I'm, um, kinda locked out." He can feel his cheeks bleed pink as he carefully avoids looking at Coots.

"Oh man, that sucks. Want a ride home?" This makes Brayden look up in surprise. There is not hint of mocking anywhere from the relaxed set of Sean's shoulders to the soft smile on his face. As Brayden has many a time theorized before, Coots may just be the perfect example of a polite Canadian. And, well, Brayden was brought up on some good, down-home, Saskatchewan values; a nice, polite Canadian boy, who can play hockey, is a boy you want to bring home to Mom.

"I, uh, I, yeah. I'd really appreciate that, Coots." Brayden is trying really hard not to be too happy about this. Do not smile like a huge dork. Do not smile like a huge dork. … And there goes Brayden's stupid, wide grin that he knows only makes his baby face worse than it already is. Jesus, who lets him interact with attractive people, like, ever?

"No big deal," Coots responds softly as he leads Brayden towards his Jeep. If it were anyone else, Brayden would make fun of it, because, seriously, a Jeep? What sort of self-respecting professional athlete drives a Jeep? He should at least get a Range Rover if he wants a boxy terrain vehicle, not that it'd make much sense to need or want one in the middle of Philadelphia. But this is Coots, and Brayden basically thinks he can't do anything wrong, which is entirely unhealthy -- he knows. Still, Brayden knows if he tried to tease Coots for even a second, he'd probably fuck it up somehow and end up making Coots hate him forever. He'd really rather not make that happen. "So, you have any particular plans for the rest of today?" Coots asks before the silence gets particularly drawn out or awkward.

Brayden takes a little bit of time to think. Thinking is good, keeps him from saying something dumb that will make Coots think he's just another stupid bruiser. "Um, not really. I was gonna make lunch, maybe catch up on some sleep, busy season so far." Wow, Bray, way to sound boring. Coots is really gonna want to get to know you better now. "What, uh, what about you?"

"Probably the same, maybe hang with Danny's kids, Skype my parents." Coots looks indifferent as he says this, just listing off words, mind somewhere else.

"Cool," Brayden replies, scouring his brain for anything with any semblance of intelligence to say, to make a real conversation.

Of course it just goes that Coots would beat him to it. "Wanna grab dinner later?" Coots keeps throwing glances at his driver's side mirror, but it's not even eleven yet and the roads are practically empty around them.

"Yeah, sure," Brayden manages to respond without sounding too excited. Admittedly, he's actually a bit confused. Coots and Brayden don't really do this, whatever this is. Usually it's a whole group of the younger single guys getting together off the ice, hitting up a sports bar or trying out some new restaurant.

"Maybe a movie?"

"Oh -- okay. Is there anything you want to see exactly? I'm not really up-to-date on movies." Holy shit, Coots is asking to spend time with him. This is awesome. Is this real? Fuck, what if Brayden really just fell asleep on the ride to morning to skate? If so, Brayden is refusing to wake up.

"I don't really have one in mind. When I come pick you up, we can look at what's showing and decide on one." Coots is making this sound like it's so normal, like they do this all the time. But they absolutely don't; Brayden would know. If they did, he'd be so much happier with getting up in the morning and going on road trips and basically everything.

Instead of verbally freaking out like he is in his own head, Brayden responds with a calm, "Sounds good. Wanna come over at six-ish?" He makes a show of watching the concrete scenery out his window so that Coots can't see him fighting the massive grin on his face.

"Yeah, six is good," Coots says as he takes the turn off towards the neighborhood the Schenns live in. Brayden's kind of disappointed that the ride is coming to an end. If he knew all he had to do to get Sean's attention was to literally force him to spend time with him, well, maybe he'd have done it sooner. As it is, Brayden probably needs to get out of this car now, or twenty second ago, any time that will prevent him from showing Coots how much of a giddy mess he is.

As Brayden's about to open the passenger side door, Coots grabs his hand off the middle console. "Schenner. Brayden." His voice is firm and he doesn't say anything until Brayden meets his eyes. They're a stupidly nice shade of brown, like Brayden's favourite teddy bear growing up. They crinkle just barely in the corners as Brayden looks up and a small smile quirks the corners of Sean's lips. "This is a date, okay? If you don't want it to be, you can call it off now and ignore this ever happened. If you change your mind before dinner, you can just not let me up when I come over later. But if you'd agree, I'd like this to be our first date."

Um. Holy shit.

Judging by Sean's breathy laugh, Brayden may have just said that out loud. As his brain is currently scrambled, he's not surprised that his brain-to-mouth filter may be broken. He's pretty sure everything involving his brain is currently broken. He thinks he utters a quick "See you at six" somewhere in his floundering to get his bag and not fall out of the car, but hopefully Coots can forgive his inability to function. He kind of just dropped a bomb on Brayden right there.

Brayden's not certain of the exact details of how he managed to get back up to his apartment, but he does and he hasn't broken anything and so he's assuming everything is okay. Mainly, he's propped against his door, repeating "holy shit" to himself in increasingly less calm tones. He knows he's kind of acting like a teenager asked out on their first date, but this is Coots and Brayden's had a thing for him since, like, playoffs last year when Coots got that hattrick and Brayden thought to himself, "I want to kiss him so badly right now." And then the summer happened and Coots came back not exactly built, but much more filled out than he had been the season past. And then the lockout happened and they got sent down to Adirondack together, and they were roommates there, though they only sort of spent any time together and still didn't really learn anything about each other at all. But Brayden did learn that he appreciated their early mornings together equally for Sean's penchant for sleeping shirtless and for being mindless together over coffee. Ever since they'd gotten back to Philly, though, they'd both gotten caught up in proving their places on the team and getting back into the swing of the city and just getting through the condensed season; any development they'd made as friends was put on hold.

\--

"You did it on purpose, you dickwad."  
"You're on the path to getting regular dick, and you're complaining?"  
"I -- shut up. And it's not just about that, okay."  
"Good. Make sure he knows that."


	2. And you should follow through (Shea Weber / Seth Jones)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could write a song with my new piano / I could sing about how love is a losing battle / … / and I could sing about cupid and his shooting arrow / in the end, you'll find out that my heart was battered / real hard (it's not hard)  
> Or: seriously guys, Shea isn't as sad as everyone thinks he is.

When Seth walks in, Shea is just standing in the kitchen, trying to decide if he wants to expend the energy to cook or if he just wants to order in, which is its own ordeal since he'd then have to rationalize to Seth that whatever he chooses is absolutely healthy enough and yes, shut up they can cheat sometimes.  
Seth sits down at the breakfast bar, faces Shea with an expectant look, and doesn't wait for any acknowledgement at all before he says, point-blank, "You know, I just don't get it."  
Shea doesn't respond with the instinctive, "Get what?", just yet. He takes a slow breath, gives a long forlorn look to the takeout menus at the corner counter beneath what Seth calls the "naughty cupboard." (Shea sends dirty looks to absolutely everyone who snorts or tries to make a derisive joke of it in front of Seth. He's just a sweet kid and the guys do not get to ruin things for him.) Shea's been waiting for a shoe to drop since Seth moved in during training camp. Living together has been just too easy. This is it. This is when Seth tells him he thinks Shea is crazy or that he's actually absolutely heartbroken that Avs didn't take him or that he hates playing with Shea or that he hates being in Nashville or that he wants a trade to Colorado. Shea breathes more -- in, one two three four, out, five six seven eight nine ten; exactly like his therapist taught him for maintaining anxiety levels -- he braces himself. Cautiously, he replies, "What don't you get?"  
Seth raises his eyebrows at him, big, wide, puppy grin slipping in face of Shea's trepidation. His expression says, "Is there something else we should talk about instead?"  
Shea shakes his head minutely and Seth responds in turn with his own rueful headshake. Water always off his back, this kid.  
Seth's mouth spreads again in one of his full smiles. "So when I moved in --" oh, there it comes "-- everyone tried to warn me that you might be depressing or morose or something. I really don't get it."  
Shea waits, assumes Seth is going to say more. But the moment stretches on. "Oh?" Shea tries to prompt neutrally.  
Seth giggles, smile only stretching further. How do his lips do that? "Yeah. I mean, you're kind of a grumpy guy sometimes --"  
"What?"  
"-- But you seem fine to me. You're a happy guy, just quiet happy. You're happy, right, Cap?" Then, somehow, Seth tilts his head to look up at Shea through his eyelashes even though they're the same damn height. That through the eyelashes thing is the least fair damn thing in the world.  
"I -- Yeah, Seth, I'm happy." She isn't sure what else to say to that. It's not a lie, though.  
He is happy. Everyone seems to think he's still sulking over Sutes, which, okay, he did for a while. Even Carrie started to be less sympathetic after every time Fish decided to drag Shea over for dinner. But he's basically over it now, more bothered by the gaps caused in their on-ice play than any emotional damage. It's been over a year. He's more concerned with their injury luck and their playoff standings. Those are his biggest problems, which in a wider view of the world aren't so big. He's not unhappy. He's just not about being just content. He's above being content. Okay, that's a douchey sentiment, like something Kleiner would tell him not to say. He's just --. He's happy. That's it, that simple. He's a single twenty-eight-year-old with a stable job, a giant house, a giant dog, and a nineteen-year-old roommate he pays too much attention to. One day, he's going to convince himself he's really just that attentive of a captain. But he's not losing sleep on it.  
"Hey, can we make that one chicken recipe Carrie gave you last week?" Seth suggests. It'd taken a couple months for Seth to get used to calling the Carrie Underwood just "Carrie", but since then, Carrie's taken to doting on Seth twice-fold any other rookie or team acquisition and Seth has gotten used to being called "Purse Holder Junior". Carrie has been getting increasingly pointed in her comments that Shea needs to "take care of this sweet, sweet boy", and Shea's still not sure what that's all about.  
Seth starts moving around the kitchen, poking around at the cabinets. "Well, more like you make it and I try to help without getting in the way. I can probably preset the oven right or boil the pasta. I can totally do pasta right."  
Shea has to give him an answering smile for that. And he doesn't even think of the takeout menus as he starts digging out the ingredients either.

\--


	3. Would You (Alex Edler / Jason Garrison; Sean Couturier / Brayden Schenn ; Alex Galchenyuk / Brendan Gallagher)

Having another language helps when you aren't the most forward person, or three entirely unrelated stories about Alex Edler, Sean Couturier, and Alex Galchenyuk using non-English languages to cop out of really asking someone out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's literally as far as i took this. i wrote down the idea in my fic drafts doc and then never continued.


	4. you'll be my local hero (David Desharnais / Ryan White)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitey will be whoever he needs to be to take care of his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Marianas Trench's track "Toy Soldiers".  
> this was meant to be part of (possibly the actual first in sequential order, but i lost the actual list i had planned out) my Davey/Whitey series "Toy Soldiers". the only fic in the series that's complete is, of course, the smut one b/c i'm a joke.

Ryan has no illusions about his place on the team. He knows what the media refers to him as, what their opponents call him, what even some of the fans call him: fourth-line thug, goon, troublemaker, instigator, etc. It's a good day when he isn't a healthy scratch and he'll never fool himself into believing he's ever going to break the fourth line. Frankly, he's happy just to be sticking in the show rather than being sent down to the minors. He's heard the low volume chatter, how some people see him and Blunden and Mo as interchangeable in their use on the roster or in the line-up, that a lot of people think he mainly only made it because of chemistry and morale. Basically, plenty of media and fans alike think he's just made the team because the guys like having him around, like having someone besides Prusty who's willing to drop the gloves in an instant. It's not to say that some of their other guys wouldn't get into if they had to (Gorgey's reputation for ruthlessness speaks for itself), but, yeah, he's the team fighter. He's almost taken to the term goon as endearing, but really, it kind of hurts. He gets it. He's not Patches or Pleks or Larry, but he feels like he isn't exactly last pick on the playground either, and that can't all be owned up to his standing up for his boys.

So yeah, he knows his place, his reputation. He lets the names he gets called roll like water off his back, accepts that the media and fans have a perception of him that he doesn't agree with. And he's not going to push it. (February was a bad month.) As much as he's willing to pick a fight over the smallest slight to one of the guys, he's not much for fighting for himself. Prusty said it best when they went over how to initiate scrums: You throw punches as necessary, and personal vendettas are never necessary. Prusty's a solid guy, full of good advice, hell of a fighter, hell of an overall player, and an even better person to be friends with than you could ever imagine. So he follows Prusty's golden rules of getting into a fight and he doesn't toss the gloves for himself, ever. But, shit, does he want to break the rule this once.

There's some asshole who just won't let up on Davey, dogging him on the puck, hits just shy of dirty, and chirping that hits all the wrong places. And it's Davey, who is so damn used to all of this that, when Ryan motions if Davey wants him to give the guy a hard time in return, Davey just smirks and says, "I got this."

But then midway through the third, the same player skates past the bench, where Ryan and Davey are both sitting next to each other. The guy says lowly, just audible to Whitey and Davey, "Had to call your guard dog down, eh Frenchie? Or is he your boyfriend? Territorial over your ass?"

"Why, you want some?" Davey retorts quickly, laughing and unfazed and okay, but oh, Ryan is seeing red. And he's not entirely certain why it bothers him so much in this moment. Maybe it's the close game, the fact that this idiot has been beating down on Davey all game, or just a combination of those and something else. Ryan just knows he doesn't even realize he's zoned out until Coach is tapping his helmet to signal his next shift on the ice.

He plays downright awful for the rest of the game. Luckily, his linemates make up for his mistakes and the other team gets knifed in the last thirty seconds with an empty net goal. Despite all the facts telling him otherwise, Ryan doesn't feel like they've won. He just wants to stretch, take a shower, and get the hell out of Dodge at this point. The sooner he's driving away from Centre Bell, the sooner he can breathe regularly. Everyone gives him his space, knows he's often on a quick switch. Coach gives him some heavy looks , looks that mean 'you can do better' and 'at least you didn't take any penalties', but he doesn't say a word in Ryan's direction. Whitey will take all the distance he can get at the moment.

It's as he's lacing up his runners that he realizes that he and Davey drove together in Ryan's car, after a dinner out at Davey's favourite burger place. Ryan takes a couple deep breaths, in, out, and settles into his stall. He knows Davey's still in the shower; he does long post-game work-outs and stretches before a long rinse-down. If it weren't Davey, Ryan would just ask someone else to give Davey a ride home, but Davey is Ryan's best friend here, talks Ryan through all his insecurities, reminds him how many people on the team are also always fighting to keep their spots here -- fought so hard to get here at all, are undrafted like Davey, got lucky chances and are clinging to the tails of opportunity. If Davey can put up with all of Ryan's self-disparaging bullshit, Ryan can wait an extra twenty minutes so that Davey doesn't have to stress his way home.

When Davey gets out of the shower, he spots Ryan immediately, flashing him a bright smile that almost makes Ryan feel better. "Why so grumpy, Whitey?" Davey gives him a quick bump before making his way to get dressed.

Ryan responds with a noncommittal sort of grunt and a weak shrug of his shoulders. All the other guys are gone by now and Ryan doesn't see the point of putting on a nice face when it's just Davey. Lying to Davey isn't on Ryan's list of okay things to do.

[coming out talk] [davey's bf and breakup; mention whitey's girlfriend leaving after contract dispute] [drunken comfort / first kiss] [… what comes next? Idk. This may take a while…]

Davey leans over and kisses him, and huh, okay. It's not like Ryan suddenly realizes he's been in love with Davey this whole time or anything like that. It's just that he really likes this, the whole being kissed by Davey thing, and he's pretty cool with this continuing and becoming a thing that they do regularly from here on out. He'll need to talk to Davey about it when Davey's not an emotional drunk mess. Speaking of that… "Come on, Davey, bed time. We'll talk about this, " Ryan makes a flippant gesture between them with the hand that isn't steadying Davey, "in the morning." Ryan maneuvers both of them onto his bed after pulling back the sheets. He pulls up the blankets and then figures "why not", curling around Davey, where he's managed to fall asleep already, body in a loose "C" and turned towards Ryan. It's not like they haven't shared beds before and, well, Ryan actually really likes cuddling and Davey's really fucking adorable. This idea can't be a bad idea.

It's not. When Ryan wakes up, Davey's still asleep and they're tangled together in the most oddly comfortable position Ryan has ever woken up in. As he watches Davey's steady breathing, Ryan realizes that he really likes this, loves the idea of waking up like this for a long time to come. Ryan's never had feelings for a guy before, but this is Davey and, knowing that, Ryan can't really freak out. It'll work itself out.


	5. Plaid Is Not a Fashion Statement (Alex Edler / Jason Garrison)

Alex doesn't expect everyone to dress like him, but he is getting really tired of Jason's flannels.  
i.e. the fic in which Alex Edler tries to restyle Jason Garrison and probably falls in love along the way. (spoiler alert: turns out Garri was already in love w/ Alex, which is why he goes along with it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, nothing but the idea put down, but it was cute so i'm including it here.


	6. Tumble (David Booth / Cody Hodgson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David knocks Cody off the bed.

(It's been a while since they've been in a bed together and they have to learn the dynamics of sleeping again.)

David's a really heavy sleeper. Before he left Vancouver, Cody remembers all of the guys making jokes about "Grizz going into hibernation". Being David's road roommate, Cody was pretty familiar with it. It's pretty great, actually. Cody's a big cuddler and David tries to act like he isn't, but the second he gets sleepy, all the inhibitions drop and he curls into Cody like a sail in the wind.


End file.
